Battle Stations: a novel of the Pacific War (Crash Dive Book 3) Read online

  “Very well. Take her up.”

  His heart flooded with relief as the surfacing alarm blared. “Control, blow all main ballast tanks. Blow negative.”

  High-pressure air poured into the ballast tanks, displacing the water and buoying the boat. The planesmen angled the boat into a controlled ascent.

  Charlie pulled on a windbreaker and hung binoculars from his neck. Sandtiger didn’t rig for red. Instead, he pulled on red goggles that would help him adapt more quickly to night vision. “Lookouts, report to the tower.”

  Smokey and two sailors reported for the watch. Sandtiger burst from the sea. The quartermaster undogged the hatch and cracked it open. Air rushed out of the boat in a whistling rush as the pressure equalized.

  Charlie mounted to the bridge, grateful to be back in the open air. He scanned the darkness with his binoculars but didn’t see anything through the close-aboard fog. Still, their position was secure enough. The radar could see what he couldn’t.

  “All clear!” he called down.

  The men piled out and took their watch stations. The engines fired.

  Charlie grinned. “Welcome to AREA ONE.”

  “Land of the Rising Sun,” Smokey said. “Land of the Fog is more like it.”

  “Damn chilly too,” one of the lookouts grumbled. A cool breeze blew from the north. The air temperature was sixty degrees. “Supposed to be August.”

  Sandtiger began to make way. The boat turned to port. Heading south into the Rishiri Channel.

  “Lights, Mr. Harrison,” the quartermaster said. “Three-four-oh on the port bow.”

  “A town. Teshio, I think. Just a fishing village.”

  “Look at them, with their lights on.”

  “Oil lamps and the like, probably.”

  “Any lamps, sir. The town should be dark. Either there are no blackout rules, or nobody is following them. It’s like they don’t know there’s a war on.”

  Charlie said, “We’ll take it, Smokey.”

  “Hey, I’m not complaining. Makes it easier to navigate.”

  “We’ll hug the coast a bit and see what turns up. The captain wants to make a run down to Rumoi, a fishing center. Maybe we’ll find some shipping there.”

  “We’re supposed to wait until midnight before we shoot anything, right?”

  Charlie shrugged. Only the captain knew his own mind. The Old Man certainly didn’t like taking orders from Rickard. Very likely, he was itching to sink the first ship. It was all moot, though, until he found that ship.

  At 2130, Sandtiger prowled outside Rumoi. Two jetties protected the harbor from foul weather. A lighthouse gleamed at the end of each of these breakwaters.

  “Fishing boats,” Smokey said with disgust.

  Charlie’s eyes strained to penetrate the darkness. “Your night vision is better than mine. I don’t see them.”

  “Trust me. Fishing boats.”

  “I see them now.” Charlie relayed the information to the conn. Moreau growled something in response. Moments later, Sandtiger turned to starboard and continued her southward trek along Hokkaido’s coast.

  Tedium was part of war. He understood that well. Patience was at the heart of submarining. Wait and hurry up. This time, however, they only had four days.

  They’d come all this way, taken all this risk, to wreak havoc.

  Sandtiger rounded Iwao and returned to a southerly heading at eighteen knots. The coastline black as far as the eye could see, sparsely inhabited. Rollers dashed against the rocky shore.

  “Smokey, you’ve served with the captain a long time.”

  “I was on Sandtiger before he was,” the quartermaster said.

  Best to come right out with it. “He goes through a lot of execs.”

  He sensed Smokey grinning in the dark. “He sure does.”

  “The dope is the chiefs are scared of him, so they hide big malfunctions. Then if anything goes wrong in combat, the exec takes the heat. Gets on the Old Man’s bad side.”

  The quartermaster laughed. “Right.”

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because it’s a giant load of horseshit, sir.”

  “Well, what gives?”

  “You looking for advice, Mr. Harrison?”

  Charlie wasn’t sure. As XO, he couldn’t express any uncertainty about his job. But he needed to learn. “I’ll always take advice from a sea dog.”

  “Don’t hold anything back. Attack the Japs with everything you’ve got.”

  “I think I follow.”

  “The captain knows you haven’t been in the boats that long. He doesn’t care. He wants a fighter, somebody who thinks like him.”

  Again, Charlie wondered if he and the captain were alike. “Thanks, Smokey.”

  “You’ll be all right.”

  The fog thinned as they crossed Ishikari Bay and approached the city of Otaru. The sprawling port had impressive breakwaters flung wide across the bay. As with Teshio and Rumoi, lights burned in the city.

  Japanese merchant ships lay moored in a series of wharfs.

  “Now we’re talking,” the quartermaster said.

  “Marus,” Charlie said. “And one big ship that could be a sea tender.”

  “No warships, though. Not that I spy.”

  “Ship off the starboard quarter, far!” one of the lookouts called out.

  Charlie searched for it. “You see him, Smokey?”

  “Looks like a small freighter coming home from Manchuria.”

  “I’ve got him now. Conn, Bridge. Contact, ship, likely a small freighter, bearing one-five-oh. One-double-oh on the starboard quarter. He rounded Takashima and is heading for Otaru.”

  He checked the time. Fifteen minutes before midnight. The operations order didn’t allow Sandtiger to shoot, but Moreau would likely see it as close enough. Heading directly toward an American submarine, the freighter was small but easy pickings. A perfect start to the mission.

  “We’re going to let him pass,” Moreau responded on the intercom.

  Charlie and Smokey exchanged a wondering glance.

  “First time I ever saw the Old Man leave food on the table,” the quartermaster murmured. “Something’s up.”

  “Captain,” Charlie said into the intercom, “I suggest—”

  “Forget him, Charlie. We just got a message from Redhorse. We have bigger fish to fry tonight. Much bigger fish.”

  Sabertooth plowed the waters as she turned and made for the open sea.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RICKARD’S RAIDERS

  The conning tower buzzed with excitement.

  Redhorse had found a convoy of troop transports. Eight ships in all. Steaming at ten knots, no zigzagging.

  Four civilian passenger-cargo ships and two ocean liners. All converted to military transport and big enough to transport an entire division. Weapons, munitions, parts, stores. Maybe even tanks and crated airplanes.

  Two escorts. A Fubuki and an old Momi-type DD.

  Captain Rickard trailed them with his Redhorse. He might sink one or two before the destroyers barreled after him. He hoped to sink them all in a single attack, so he alerted the wolf pack.

  But they were far away.

  Charlie, Moreau, Percy, and Nixon studied the map at the plotting table in the conning tower. A line extended from Hokkaido toward the center of the Sea of Japan. Sandtiger.

  A second line reached northwest from the port of Niigata in central Honshu.

  “The convoy appears headed for Seishin,” Moreau said. A Korean port.

  “Replacements for the Kwantung Army,” Charlie guessed.

  The Kwantung Army guarded Manchuria against Soviet invasion. Its ranks included the best units in the Imperial Japanese Army.

  Moreau grunted. “Don’t matter. What matters is if they are going to Seishin, they’re gonna cross the middle of the Japan Sea. We’re in the game.”

  “It’s a hell of a long way,” Percy said. His Aloha shirt glared red and yellow in the conning tower’s light.
Charlie wondered why the captain allowed him to break the uniform regulations. Maybe neither of them cared.

  The yeoman approached. “Decoded message from Redhorse, Captain.”

  Moreau read the message and handed it to Percy. “The good commodore has given us the coordinates where he hopes to attack at 0130 tomorrow. Our objective is to sink all six troopships in a decisive night surface attack.”

  Standard submarine doctrine. Describe the target, how to sink it.

  Charlie checked his watch. About 25 hours.

  Richard knew his wolf pack tactics, which the German U-boats had perfected as the war progressed. The first submarine on the scene acted as the shadow, staying out of sight while keeping contact with the convoy. When other submarines arrived, the coordinator gave the signal to attack. The result was devastating.

  The communications officer marked the overlay with an X using a grease pencil. The spot was about 350 miles from Niigata.

  Charlie blinked at the plot. “That’s out of range!”

  Up to the attack area, the convoy had to travel 250 miles. Sandtiger, 350. The submarine made eighteen knots, the transports ten. At dawn, however, Sandtiger submerged. Underwater, she made only three knots.

  Percy scratched his head. “We’re short, what, about seventy miles?”

  “Sixty-eight miles to be exact,” Nixon said.

  Moreau said, “We’re gonna stay on the surface in daylight.”

  Charlie and Percy exchanged a horrified glance.

  “On the surface,” Percy clarified. “In daylight. In the Sea of Japan.”

  “I don’t believe in ideal setups any more than I do Santa Claus. Dis is the only way to do it. We’ll dive at any sign of trouble.” The captain’s eyes narrowed under bushy eyebrows. “Only gonna ask you boys once. You with me?”

  Percy looked away as if searching for a good spot to throw up. “All the way, Captain. Only way to do it.”

  Charlie again wondered if Moreau was bold or mad. “Aye, Captain.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Nixon said.

  “Uh-huh,” said the captain.

  “We don’t have to stay surfaced the whole way,” Charlie said.

  “Two hours, forty-eight minutes,” Nixon said. “That’s how long.”

  “You’re looking at it wrong,” Moreau said. “We’re going on the surface. The whole run. We have nine hours we can be submerged if we have to pull the plug.”

  Charlie studied the map but saw no other option. A daylight run was possible. The main variable was how long they could cruise on the surface. A variable they couldn’t even guess. They didn’t know the territory.

  A big risk, yes, but for a very big reward.

  The six troop transports carried what might be an entire division. Ten thousand men and all their equipment. They’d have an artillery regiment aboard.

  Sinking these ships and their cargo would be a major blow against the Japanese. Some opportunities, you just can’t pass up.

  “Redhorse will update us if anything changes,” Moreau said. “Charlie, during the attack, you’ll be on the bridge with me. I want you on the TBT.”

  The captain wanted them to work together as a team to take down the transports. Surprised, Charlie again gave the only permissible answer: “Aye, Captain.”

  “I command. You execute. You make all observations. All right?”

  Was he kidding? “It’s music to my ears, Captain.”

  “I thought you might say that.” Moreau turned and barked, “Helmsman, come right to two-four-five. Jerry will give you the coordinates. Set a new course as the crow flies.”

  “Come right to two-four-five, aye, Captain,” the helmsman answered.

  The captain pulled down the 1MC handset and keyed the callbox for public address. “Listen up, crew. This is your captain.”

  His voice blared over the loudspeakers. Across Sandtiger, the sailors stopped and listened.

  “By now, you may have heard we just passed up a beauty steaming into Otaru Harbor. He would have made a nice patch on our flag. We’re after much bigger fish now. We’re after Moby Dick himself. You see, Cap’n Rickard decided Christmas should come early this year.”

  Moreau paused to let their imaginations run wild. “Ol’ Rick found us a convoy of eight tin cans. Six of ’em troopships big enough to haul a division. We do dis right, we’ll have a lot of patches on our flag. Just to make things more exciting and so we get there on time, we’re gonna make the run in daylight. Depending on the traffic above water, our girl might get a lot of exercise today. Stay sharp, do your duty, and let’s bag those cans. We’re gonna hit the Japs where they live. Show ’em nowhere is safe.” He paused again. “Dat’s all, I guess.”

  He remounted the handset as the crew cheered across the boat.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DOUBLE OR NOTHING

  Four hours before dawn.

  Last chance for rest before Sandtiger’s daylight run across the Japan Sea.

  Charlie collapsed on his bunk and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Too much to think about. Too little time to rest before the harrowing day ahead.

  Percy hauled himself up onto the overhead bunk. After a few minutes, he asked Charlie if he was awake.

  Charlie didn’t answer, stubbornly trying to cross over.

  “Hey. Hey, Harrison. Harrison.”

  “What?” he cried.

  “You awake?”

  “What do you want, Percy?”

  “I was wondering what you like to do for fun.”

  “I like to sleep,” Charlie growled. “We’ve only got four hours.”

  “Come on, man. Talk to me a little. I get insomnia.”

  “Worried about running the sea in broad daylight? Is that it?”

  “No. I mean, yeah. Of course.”

  “We’re all worried, Percy.”

  “I wonder if guys on Death Row get a good night’s rest before the electric chair. I doubt it.”

  “The captain knows what he’s doing.” The statement had become mere reflex by this point.

  “I’ve served with him longer than you,” Percy said. “He has a keen eye for the odds, I’ll give him that. He hates the Japs more than any man alive does. Every time he wins, though, he ups his bets. Pushes the odds. Hates the Japs even more. I hope it doesn’t catch up to him. Seeing as we’re all in the same boat.”

  Charlie said nothing. Submarine commanders like Moreau were innovating new doctrine. Achieving great successes. The old doctrine certainly wasn’t accomplishing a whole lot in this war. Between timid commanders and faulty torpedoes, the Japanese barely regarded the submarines as a threat.

  Moreau liked to fight on the surface at night. Patrol on the surface during daylight hours and dive only when the enemy was within six miles. Use radar instead of passive sonar for tracking and targeting. Allow his XO to make combat observations while he conned the boat and focused on the battle. Keep the periscope up longer and more often when submerged.

  And always attack, attack, attack.

  The captain took big risks but achieved even bigger results. Charlie trusted him. He wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe reason, not blind hatred, drove Moreau’s boldness. If reason, the man was possibly a genius. If hatred, he was a madman who might get them all killed.

  Percy said, “The reason I can’t sleep sometimes is I think about home so hard I start to believe I might get there again. Then I get the bad dreams.”

  Charlie propped himself on his elbow. “What sort of dreams? The boat sinking, that sort of thing?”

  Percy sighed. “I dream I go home, and I know it’s where I grew up, but everything’s different. All the houses are different. Nobody knows me. My family and friends, nobody. I tell them who I am, but they say they never heard of me. They ask me if I was in the war, and I say yes, I served on Sandtiger in the Pacific. They just stare at me with this sad, scared look on their faces. That’s when I realize I’m dead. I died in the war. Then I wake up.”

  “Shit,” Cha
rlie said. “That’s a rough one. I dream about the Japanese.”

  “On the level?”

  “I see them screaming in the water. Eyes looking at me from faces covered in oil. Clothes blown off by the blast. The sea covered in oil and on fire.”

  “Shit,” Percy said.

  “Yeah. Shit.”

  In other dreams, he relived the fight with the Mizukaze. Watched the bodies of the deck gun crew fly apart under cannon fire. Captain Hunter said, “Very well,” just before conning tower exploded in a blinding flash.

  Shit.

  “So what do you like to do for fun?” Percy didn’t want to talk about their nightmares.

  Charlie enjoyed himself while doing many things, but he couldn’t name something he did just for fun. He’d grown up without a father during the hard times of the Depression. Work was all he knew as long as he could remember.

  He said, “Hang out with my girl, I guess.”

  “The hot little number at the dance hall?”

  “That’s Evie. There’s also Jane, an Army nurse.”

  The mattress rustled overhead. Percy peered over the edge of the bed, looking at Charlie upside-down. “You have two girls.”

  “The truth is I don’t really have either one of them.”

  “Yeah, I understand. But you have two girls.” Percy’s face disappeared. The mattress rustled again as the man settled on his back. “Never would have pictured you juggling the ladies, Harrison. You strike me as the earnest family type.”

  “I’ll get there eventually.”

  “Who’s it gonna be?”

  “Evie reminds me of home. Jane reminds me of the war.”

  Percy snorted. “Sounds like an easy choice to me.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “You’re an interesting guy, Harrison. I hope you survive all this. Make one of those girls a happy lady.”

  “You too. So what do you do for fun besides drink and play banjo, Percy?”

  “I’m nuts about bowling.”

  Charlie closed his eyes and listened.

  Smokey shook him awake what felt like seconds later.